


polite eye contact

by touchpin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, taking advantage of socially awkward boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchpin/pseuds/touchpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane offers Dirk a cupcake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	polite eye contact

Jane has been staring at you all afternoon.

She called you earlier to report that Lil’ Seb had met with a rather serious malfunction. The little guy had been running about her house and getting up to a whole mess of shenanigans — more so than usual — before suddenly shorting out. Over the phone, Jane had sounded fairly distressed. She said that she hoped whatever was wrong with Seb was something that could be fixed. You got to her house as soon as you could.

Despite Jane’s worry, the problem really hadn’t been that serious. There was no permanent damage, and whatever parts that had been too burnt out were easily replaced. In all, it took you an hour or so to assess the damage and exchange the needed parts. Lil’ Seb eventually found himself hooked up to one of the wall sockets in Jane’s room and charging.

“It’ll take about twenty-four hours for him to finish, but after that he should be good for a while,” you tell Jane, hearing your knees pop as you stand.

“Oh, great! Thanks so much! I was really worried about him,” Jane answers. You turn and see her kicking her feet slightly from her seat on the bed. She had been watching you intently all this time while you worked, and now you were aware that the whole of her attention was now settled pointedly on your face. You can’t help feeling vaguely uncomfortable.

You quickly avert your eyes and then immediately feel bad, realizing that Jane could see your refusal to meet her gaze — you had taken off your shades while working on Lil Seb, and your shifty eyes were plainly on display.

Reaching down to pluck the shades from the floor where Lil Seb’s machinery had previously been scattered, you slide them back onto your face and only feel a fraction of a bit better. You had trouble enough with eye contact on a regular basis, but when dealing with Jane Crocker’s particular brand of attentiveness, you somehow felt even more nervous than usual.

Now what? You had finished what you came here to do, and were now standing in the middle of Jane’s bedroom while you could hardly meet her gaze for longer than a few seconds. Every moment of the passing silence was making a familiar feeling of anxiety grow in your chest. You were just about to say your goodbyes and make a swift escape when Jane pipes up —

“Do you want a cupcake?”

You very nearly snap your head up at that, startled by the offer. After a few moments of hesitation, you try to quietly clear your throat, then answer, “Yeah. Um, yeah.”

Putting on a crooked smile, Jane makes a small intake of breath as if about to say something. But she doesn’t. Instead, she swings her legs once more before hopping up from the bed, turning towards the doorway to lead you towards the kitchen.

 

Jane has an assortment of cupcakes kept on a cake stand with a glass cover. While deciding which one to take, her hand twirls in the air for a moment as if casting a spell. Eventually, she decides on an orange cupcake with orange frosting.

As she holds out the cupcake for you to take, you try not to brush your fingers against hers. You lean back against the edge of the kitchen island, examining the confectionary. You are not an expert on baked goods by any means, but the icing swirl looks perfect, just like most every other detail that Jane puts into her baking. As you’re peeling off the cupcake’s wrapper, you chance a glance up at her. She’s looking right at you.

“It’s vanilla. With butterscotch icing,” she supplies, leaning back on the counter opposite you. Now her stare is expectant. Offering your own small smile, your gaze flickers between her and the floor. Then, with a mostly steady hand, you raise the cupcake to take a bite.

It’s good. You raise your eyes again to tell Jane so, but give a small jolt when you see that she’s moved to be right in front of you. You nearly drop your cupcake in surprise, but her hand darts up to place a steadying hold on your own before you can.

“Sorry,” she says, eyebrows just slightly knitted together. “You’ve got some… orange…”

Then Jane Crocker leans forward and kisses you.

You’re too shocked to move. You can feel her tongue lick away the stray frosting at the corner of your mouth, and then trace along your lips, picking up extra crumbs. When she pulls back, she stops only a few inches from your face, eyes wide and unblinking as they stare into your own. You both don’t say a word. The entire kitchen seems to be filled only with the sound of your own breathing and your pulse pounding in your ears.

After a long while of your silence, Jane moves towards you again. This time she keeps her eyes open as her tongue enters your mouth, steadily watching your reaction through the dark of your glasses. She only lightly brushes your wrists with her hands, but presses her body against yours so that you’re backed further against the kitchen island. The cupcake tumbles from your grip, forgotten, as your hands scramble back to grip the counter’s edge.

You finally manage enough presence of mind to pull back from her, barely taking the time to choke down some air before immediately spluttering, “I-I don’t —”

“Should I stop?” Jane says, cutting you off. The small crease between her eyebrows in now gone, and all that’s left is the simple intensity of her stare.

Any more words have dried up in your throat. You desperately want to look away, but she’s far too close. Instead, you choose to look at her nose, her forehead, the small curve at the corner of her lips — anywhere but her eyes. When Jane quietly speaks up again, though, you’re gaze unwillingly snaps up to meet hers again.

“It’s okay. Now lie back on the counter.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief after her words take a moment to register. Your lips begin to form a question, but all the sound you manage is a pathetic squeak. Jane reaches up to your face and, gently, she removes your shades. You don’t try to stop her. With your last barrier gone, you can feel your eyes begin to water.

“Lie back on the counter, please,” she repeats firmly.

You do as you’re told.

 

It takes a moment to be able to hoist yourself over the counter’s edge, but as soon as your back hits the top of the kitchen island Jane has her pale fingers working at your pants zipper. You then feel her slide her fingers under your waistband, and with a slightly quivering murmur of “Lift your hips,” she slides down both your jeans and underwear at once. The clothing tangles around your knees where they dangle off the counter's edge. Jane bends over for a moment to remove her own underwear, leaving her skirt on.

It takes Jane some awkward fumbling to get up onto the kitchen island while you’re already draped over it, but she eventually manages, moving to straddle your hips. Your heart is pounding too hard in your chest, and the entire situation feels so frightening and surreal. Why are you doing this?

You realize that you’ve begun to shake. You desperately hope that you don’t begin to cry.

“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, I’ve got you…” Jane coos, eyebrows creasing with your distress. She reaches down to stroke your cheek, brush back your hair, trying to console you. You’re starting to find it hard to breathe, and Jane just looks so genuinely concerned as she frames your face with her hands.

She’s still gently shooshing you when one of her hands slides down between your legs and wraps around your length. The contact makes you jump, and Jane immediately sets into a greater frequency of shooshing. Tears do begin to fall now, your position on the countertop causing them to pool in the corners of your eyes and leak down into your hair.

Her hand slowly and gently pumps you even as she murmurs “Nononono, don’t, shhh, don’t cry”, pressing quick kisses along your cheeks in an effort to steal your tears away. You don’t know whether to feel exhilarated or sickened by the tingling, burning sensation rising in your stomach. You feel her redistributing her weight as she lifts her hips, positioning herself so that the tip of your length presses against her entrance.

“Come on, Dirk, look at me,” she says, pleading. You can feel the breathe of her exhale on your skin, and after some hesitation, you obey her. Trying to blink away some of your blurred vision, you slowly lift your eyes to hers. Her eyes only seem to open ever more impossibly wide when she sees that she has your attention again. Fingertips barely skating across your jaw, she then moves to softly trace your wobbling lower lip.

Then, biting her lip, she sinks down to envelope you.

A ragged gasp tears itself from your throat, and you nearly crack your skull open against the countertop from jerking your head back. Jane hisses in sympathy, doubling over to cradle your head. She waits until the the most of the sting fades and your watery eyes are directed back at hers before she begins to move again. Her mouth falls open as she thrusts, watching you unblinkingly as you shudder and soft whimpers escape from your lips. Your fingers squeak against the countertop as they desperately scramble for something to grip onto, and Jane quickly reaches out to stop them. You squeeze your eyes shut tight once more in an attempt to block out the kitchen lighting, which now seems much, much too bright.

“No, look at me,” Jane says a little more harshly, releasing one of your hands in order to firmly grasp your chin. Your eyes snap open, trying hard to obey and focus on her through your head swimming and your hiccuping gasps and moans steadily rising in volume. She grips either side of your face, making little breathy noises as she picks up the pace. She leans forwards until your foreheads touch, close enough to swallow up your cries, issuing an endless murmur of “Look at me, look at me, good, lookatmegoodboylookatme —”

She fucks you harder, buries her hands in your hair, kisses a sloppy line from the corner of your nose to your jaw and down your neck. Her words stream from her mouth, lovingly spread across your skin, telling you that “You’re doing so good, Dirk, so good, you’re the sweetest boy I’ve ever met, neverlookawayjustlookatme you’re so sweetsweetestboyDirk —”

With one last choked squeak, you finally reach the edge and everything explodes into white. Shortly after, Jane tenses and emits her own cry, then relaxes atop you.

 

After you come down, there is a faint buzzing in your head and a cold feeling has settled itself in the pit of your stomach. Even after Jane’s breathing against your neck has slowed, you are still left wheezing stiltedly beneath her. She lightly caresses your face in slow, calming motions.

“You should definitely come over more often,” Jane mumbles, placing her hand over your chest to feel your stuttering heartbeat. “I can make more cupcakes.”


End file.
